


If Only You Would Have Answered Otherwise

by GrimSister21



Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, F/M, I'm Sorry, One-Sided Relationship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:49:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimSister21/pseuds/GrimSister21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written a long time ago for cliche' bingo.  Peter is trying to get Wendy to return with him to Neverland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only You Would Have Answered Otherwise

 

It was on a winter's month. The air tasted like frost and he sat there, as always, and waited for the same little girl he used to visit twice a year, every winter and summer.

He sat on the ugliest gargoyles' head, at the building across her window. It was a spot he claimed as his own eons ago, when she was still eight and he would have taken her away to that wondrous land, forever filled with ever-warm Neverland. She would come and play, watch over the Lost Boys, tell him new stories and try to prove she hadn't change since the last time he visited London. Not much, at least.

The first years after their grand adventure and victory over Hook, Wendy was excited to see again Tinker Bell and the Lost Boys and the Indians. She was excited to watch the mermaids playing with bubbles from both sides of the rainbow, to hear those old pirate songs once more.

But now, there were things that prevented her from doing so. Every time Peter would ask her to run away with him to a world where humidity, heat and adventure lasted forever, Wendy would just smile and shake her head at him, leaving him at the window.

In the first years, she still tried to explain why she can't leave with him. Sometimes it was her job that prevented it from her, another story in need of editing. Sometimes it was her children. Sometimes she would simply look t him for a moment and say: "I've forgotten how to fly."

And when Peter would smile and offer to teach her again, she would shrug and tell him: "there's no use. I'm too big for NeverLand anyway."

When she finally understood that none of those explanations gets through the Never-Boy's thick skull, she began getting used to shake her head in a teary smile and just say no. And Peter would always wonder why wouldn't she want to run away with him. And how is it that she is always the one saying the last word, closes the window and goes back in.

He sat there, looking into the bright light that crept through the apartments see-through curtains, and remembered how her face used to look, lighten only by the dim light of NeverLand fairies. It used to glow, eyes turning into bright, golden torches that would spark envy even in the brightest of stars. But now…

Now she sits there, under that fancy chandelier in the same old London apartment, with two big brown eyes, dark and cold as caves.

She sat there with her friends, glancing outside, just in case. When she spotted the familiar figure sitting on the gargoyle and spying on her, her eyes widened a little with horror. But this time, she ignored him. There was no excusing herself to the balcony, no trying to talk to him, not even trying to shoo him away with a hand gesture. She just ignored him. Turned around and got back to those friends of hers, those… those… adults, pretending not to notice the admiring gaze of the little boy she once knew.

Peter swallowed with some difficulty. He remembered one of the nights in Neverland, when they both danced to a full moon, fairies around them, set in complex and delicate patterns. And she was there, looking like a big fairy herself, glowing in pearl- white and smiling at him.

He remembered how he wished to give her a thimble and discovered he hasn't got the courage for it. And then remembered how he ruined that magical moment (The same magic that hasn't existed in ages in that wild, long lost land) when he asked her in a horse, shaky voice: "It's only in make believe, isn't it, Wendy?"

"Yes. It's only in make believe."

If only she would have answered otherwise.

 

 


End file.
